Holmes Missing
by Emmalie22
Summary: Loosely tied together collection of shorts depicting psychopathic!Merlin and sociopathic!Sherlock. The shorts are meant to be funny.
1. Chapter 1

John remembered the first time he had met the youngest Holmes. He walked right into their apartment, without stopping from Sherlock's protests, and introduced himself. He was young, maybe nineteen, and extremely disarming. Nothing like his two older brother's, he getting a degree in useless (in Sherlock's worlds) history. Bright, but in no way genius, John felt bad for the young man. He couldn't image what it was like for him to grow up in the Holmes family when he was so normal.

John was pacing back and forth, extremely worried from the news, images of the young man flashing in his eyes. The dark hair, Sherlock like features, and the bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief.

He had been kidnapped.

"He's going to kill him," Sherlock whined.

"I have no doubt," Mycroft agreed.

John was stunned. The Holmes brothers had just been informed that their younger brother had been _kidnapped_ and instead of rushing out to save him, like John would have expected, there were holed up in Sherlock's apartment whining.

"Why did it have to be Moriarty?" Sherlock complained like a petulant child. John didn't agree with the tone of Sherlock's voice, but he did agree with the sediment. Why couldn't it have been another person that would be easier to track down?

"I'm sorry that he had to die like this. I know you two were just starting to get to know each other."

John felt scandalized. Sherlock and his brother had just started making it up to each other in the last few months. For most of their life they hadn't been very close and for Mycroft to say such an insensitive comment make John feel sick to his stomach.

"I know. I wish we could have had more time," Sherlock groaned.

"He may not kill him. There is a good chance that he would leave him because he knows what he means to you."

"A good chance," Sherlock voice was full of sarcasm, "That's not enough."

"No. It's not."

"He's _mine_."

John was starting to get confused. His what? Little brother? Because that was a very possessive thing to say about the young man that the two Holmes were just making process with letting back into their lives.

"I'm sure Merlin will at least take pictures, Sherlock. You could frame them."

Sherlock pushed his bottom lip out, "But _I _wanted to be the one to take him down."

All Mycroft did to that was lay a confronting hand on his brother's shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

When John woke up the next morning, he headed to Sherlock's and almost turned around and took a taxi back home. Yesterday, he spent hours trying to get information out of the older Holmes brothers, getting little to no information. He, in that time, learned to appreciate Sherlock's proclivity to what John liked to call showing off. If he had taken after Mycroft, he would never learn anything.

"Good morning," a very alive and well, Merlin spoke, not even looking up from the paper he was reading.

John opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head. Sitting down right next to the young man, he asked very innocently, "How are you?"

"Alive," Merlin smiled wryly looking up to him. His eyes twinkled with something that John couldn't place, but he knew that despite appearances, Merlin was defiantly a Holmes. He couldn't believe he doubted it for a second. Stupid him.

Sherlock must have been laughing at him the entire time.

"Cairo? Really?" Sherlock blurted out, barely into the room before his words invaded the air.

"I plead the fifth," Merlin didn't even turn to look at him. John blinked. He knew the American term, but it sounded funny in Merlin's distinctly Welsh accent.

John watched Sherlock scowl. "And last month, there were five dead executives I can trace back to you."

The younger brother didn't even flinch, "No you can't, or I wouldn't be sitting here: _no?_"

"I wouldn't turn you in. Mycroft, however, would love to get proof. Just thinking trapping you in some government contact makes him excited. You are way too good at avoiding him." Sherlock said the last part jealously.

"Well," Merlin sighed and finished his coffee, "I best be going. I brought these. I still have the pictures from high school graduation, so don't even think about doing anything with them…"

Merlin slid over a manila folder, "It's nice seeing you John. Tell Mary "hello" for me. And the new puppy too."

Merlin slid out of the house, walking like a ghost, no footsteps to speak.

"Do I have dog hair on me?" John asked. He was sure that he didn't.

"No," Sherlock gave, "But the dog had an accident this morning and their faint smell on your clothes."

"Really?" John closed his eyes, calming himself.

"Hmm," Sherlock eyed the folder. "Oh yes, not bad, mind you. I didn't notice until he pointed it out, but I already knew of the dog of course. Mary sent me a picture."

John sighed. Once again, Merlin proved to be a Holmes.

"What's in there?" John asked, not sure if he wanted to know. He didn't seriously believe that it was pictures of dead Moriarty. That would be insane, but then again, Merlin looked perfectly alright.

Sherlock grabbed the folder, pleased, and took it to sit down. John followed obediently, needing answers.

Sherlock smiled his creepy grimace that caused the worst of criminals to balk, but John just to relent to inevitable; Sherlock had something up.

"John; Merlin has gifted me with information regarding the terrorist group Catha who are particularly nasty. Originally I believed Merlin was part of them, but know I think I have pinpointed his loyalties."

"Terrorist group? Merlin? Are you saying that your brother…?" John's eyes widened. He had accepted that Merlin was like his brothers, but he hadn't expected him to by anything but a force of good.

"More of an affiliate of assassins; the Catha's specialize in torture for information," Sherlock informed then quirked, "What did you think Merlin did?"

"A uni student." John stated, trying to reconcile Merlin with the image he had of heartless assassins.

"John," Sherlock gave him _that look_ which implied that he wasn't up to snuff with the keeping up part of being around him. "Merlin, I believe, is part of the Druids. He's an assassin and a good one at that. It's hard for me to pinpoint when he started. Probably five years ago-"

"He would be fifteen!"

"-but I can't be sure. Now, I think he's killing for Arthur Pendragon."

"The _Prince?_" John now wished he would have turned around and went back home.

"Is there another?" Sherlock asked; John couldn't figure out whether he was serious or not.

"Well," Sherlock eyes danced. "I'm heading out. Are you joining?"

"Yeah-" John blinked, "_What? _No, I have a," John suddenly withered under Sherlock's gaze, "a dog training thing."

Sherlock didn't bother with begging him; he simply swept out of the room leaving John rather discombobulated with all the information.

Before he left, John noticed that a paper had slipped out of the folder.

One picture lay on the group. Hanging upside down and blindfolded, was none other than Moriarty.

Written in Merlin's messy scrawl, were the words: _Have fun. You owe me. _

Suddenly, John remembered that Sherlock said that Mary told him about the dog, no doubt mentioning the training. He knew that John would have something going on and wouldn't follow. Or maybe, he left the paper on purpose so that John would follow.

Either way, John's eyes widened and he knew he couldn't leave it.

"Sherlock!" John bellowed, sprinting out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

John still couldn't quite believe it staring at Moriarty. The man hung from the ceiling with a silver rope, strung up like a pig.

"- still have no ideas for what I should do." Sherlock ranted, "I'm at a conundrum John! Me. Indecisive."

"That is a problem," John muttered, still staring.

"I know. I know. I can't kill him. That would be something _my brothers _would do, but if they did it nobody would question it. But if _I _killed him, oh no, I would be irredeemable."

Moriarty's eye brow furrowed, "Your brother's seem to be terrible people. I'm a terrible person. Therefore, you shouldn't kill me."

Sherlock ignored him.

"Killing him would be bad," John stated, "we should turn him in."

"Bad? Like very bad?" Sherlock tipped his head as if the question genuinely stumped him.

"Yes," John nodded. "Like go to jail bad."

Sherlock laughed. Then stopped.

Sherlock laughed again.

"Jail, John, what type of moron do you think I am?"

"I don't think he thinks you're a moron. More of that he is one himself," Moriarty commented.

"I didn't ask for your opinion and don't insult John!" Sherlock defended him.

John glared at the man, "Thank you." He smiled at Sherlock.

Sherlock returned it. "Yes, John, that is for me and me alone to do."

"That's not what-"

Sherlock cut John off. "As I was saying. I can't kill him, and I can't leave him. Than all of the work Merlin did would be for naught. Merlin caught him," Sherlock pouted.

"Then turn him in," John started.

"Why weren't you more of a genius? I was so hopeful that there would be a game afoot."

"I am a genius," Moriarty stated, "How do you know that my associates haven't been alerted of my kidnapping?"

"That wouldn't be. You would be gone by now, and there are no trackers on your clothes. My brother would make sure of it," Sherlock rationalized still pacing.

"True, yet, Sherlock darling. I really don't want to die. How about we come to a consensus? I help you, you help me?" The man flashed a relaxed grin completely unlike someone in a hold akin to a pig on death row.

"John, is that morally acceptable?" Sherlock questioned.

"No," he shook his head. Not at all.

"Hmm, then we are right where we started. What to do with him…" Sherlock walked over to the man and put his hand on his chin.

"You should turn him in," John prompted.

"You are quite the evil villain. I was hoping for an arch nemesis. Is that too much to ask? John?"

"No…" John trailed off, wondering when his world turned into a comic book.

Sherlock huffed, paced again, and finally snapped, "John. I have it."

"What Sherlock?"

"We should turn him in!"


	4. Chapter 4

John headache got steadily worse as Sherlock ranted about the case. The words idiot, imbecile, and degenerate were thrown around and John severely wished he hadn't agreed on meeting him at the body cite.

"Sherlock," a familiar voice berated from behind them, "lay off the poor detective. Not everyone can identify a killer by the smell of their perfume."

Sherlock twitched, and John sighed.

"Somebody should point out when they are missing or they would go through life in the confines of their small minds. The way I see it, I'm helping them."

Everyone turned to the young man that entered the crime scene. Dressed in skinny jeans and a college sweatshirt, he looked completely out of place. John knew otherwise.

Lestrade looked completely unsure of how he should address the situation, so he reacted by holding out his hand after removing his glove. "I'm Inspector Greg Lestrade; and you are..."

"Merlin Holmes, I'm the younger brother to the idiot over here," he jerked his thumb at Sherlock before moving forward to amiably shake the detectives hand.

The group gaped at the man who dared to call Sherlock unintelligent.

"I'm not an idiot," he grumbled.

"Of course not. You're very intelligent Sherlock. However, that has little to do with your social skills where you are an idiot." John agreed with Merlin there, but he still didn't quite know what to think of the younger Holmes.

"I'm a highly functioning sociopath," he snapped.

"And I'm a full blow psychopath," Merlin quipped sarcastically, and gave John a sly grin.

Sherlock interrupted, "You are!"

"Don't hide behind your excuses. You could be perfectly pleasant if you tired." John doubted that, but well, Merlin did grow up with Sherlock.

"Why are you here? You didn't come to complain about my manners and leave Arthur unprotected."

Merlin shook his head at his brother. "Please excuse him. It seems we weren't able to teach anything in his childhood."

Merlin reached forward to shake the rest of the groups hands.

"The normal one, eh?" Anderson asked, "Must have been hell growing up."

Merlin threw back his head in a laugh. "Maybe, but I didn't know anything different. I was adopted when I was three. Technically I'm Sherlock's cousin, but they took me in after my Mother, Sherlock's aunt, died of cancer."

That was the first John had heard of it, and he was quite startled by the revelation.

Sherlock turned to Merlin and grumbled, "Mummy would have your head if he knew you thought like that."

"Is that your way of saying your glad to call me family?" Merlin smiled genuinely.

Sherlock scrunched his nose, "I would have lacked a minion growing up. It would have been utterly boring."

Merlin laughed again before turning to John. "It's nice to see you again John. You should drag Sherlock to Wales one of these days."

"Why are you here?" Sherlock suddenly spoke, "You tracked me down to a crime scene, and despite the small talk, you wouldn't do that unless you are desperate. You want the information I found. I knew you wouldn't give me that for no reason."

"Sherlock," Merlin interrupted before he could go off on another rant.

"I have it at the flat. I assume you want discretion?"

"Do with the information what you will. It will be irrelevant by tonight anyways," Merlin allowed, "Mycroft has already gotten his hands on it."

Sherlock snorted, "Like our brother could stop you. Where does Arthur think you are anyways?" As if on a timer, Merlin's phone rang.

Picking it up, the young man answered, "Hello."

"No, I'm not at a pub and no I haven't gotten myself arrested for public intoxication." Merlin sounded indignant.

There was a low voice on the other end. "Did you hear that from Giaus because if that Professor wasn't a genius, I would swear he makes up everything."

"No Lance isn't with me, or Gwaine so don't go blaming them. I'm visiting my parents. I told you that last week Prat. I'm be pack to uni tomorrow."

"I talk to you later Arthur, don't get a big head while I'm gone."

Merlin shook his head as he hung up. "Sorry about that, and I'm sorry for interrupting proceedings," he nodded to the dead body lying behind them.

"They were almost over anyways," Sherlock proclaimed.

"They better be," John muttered, thinking about his work that Sherlock pulled him away from.

He grumbled, and Merlin shook his head at the two. "I'll grab your findings. Thank you, Sherlock."

"You owe me." John suddenly got pale thinking of all the ways that Sherlock could cash in on such a debt.

Merlin seemed to catch John's train of thought because he winked at him before telling his brother, "I'm sure I'll find a way to pay you back. And please, Sherlock, when you see Mycroft later tell him that I am more than capable of losing his trails and if he insults me again by sending sub-par agents I will lead them into a whore house and make sure that the press gets hold of it." The kid smiled evilly and John shivered.

Merlin nodded to the group of men and gave a jubilant wave. "It's always nice to meet the people Sherlock likes."

Sherlock's, "I don't like them," fell on death ears as Merlin turn to exit for the group.

Then Merlin picked up his phone that was one again ringing and snapped into it. "Arthur Pendragon you better have a damn good re- Oh, Hello Mummy. No, I want about to curse out the Pra- I mean Prince."

His jubilant tone carried as he walked out of the room.

Sally was one of the first to recover, exclaiming, "Did he just say Arthur Pendragon?"

Sherlock nodded, "How Merlin stands the idiot if beyond me."

"But, but," she stammered.

"It's a mystery how he avoids the press then I guess it's Mycroft's fault." Sherlock sighed and turned back to the body.

"That bloody bastard!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" John blinked rapidly.

"Merlin knew- the perfume. The girlfriend. Of course!"

"The husband was cheating on her?" Sally asked.

"Don't be boring Donovan," Sherlock snapped, "She was cheating on her husband. I'm sure you have such a small perspective on the world that you can't entertain..."

Sherlock continued on his rant and John heard Anderson mutter, "Not so normal after all."


	5. Chapter 5

John _wanted_ to say that he would never meet the royal family. Not because he didn't want to, or -god- he thought that Mycroft would introduce them, but because it likely meant the type of trouble he and Sherlock should be avoiding. Meeting the Royal family would undoubtedly imply they were involved in affairs they should not have been.

John should never have held onto that hope, or really any hope, because he knew he was just setting himself up for failure.

And so John was not surprised when Arthur Pendragon showed up at Sherlock's flat one morning. Not surprised at all he would later claim.

John answered the door half asleep, blinking before he addressed, "Hello."

The young royal frowned at him, "You're not Sherlock."

"You know Sherlock?" the words slipped out John's guy guy mouth before he thought them through. Of course he knew Sherlock.

The man snorted, "Doesn't everyone."

"Are you looking for Merlin?" John asked tentatively.

"No," he said, then, "yes. I don't know. I made a mistake."

"That's hardly a surprise," Sherlock's voice resounded through the room.

They had been working on a case. It was late, probably morning by now, and John loosely became aware that Mary hadn't called him to check in.

She really was great.

"Just as rude as ever," the prince said.

"Hm," Sherlock made a disapproving noise, "why should I go out of my way to be nice to you."

"Because I'm your bloody Prince," Arthur growled. John glanced between the two debating whether to or not to get involved.

"I don't subscribe to monarchy ideals, although admittedly I'm not a big fan of democracy either with the lack of common sense of the majority of the population seems to have. At least Britain has Mycroft," Sherlock then continued, "More so, you being Prince is not a reason to give you respect. That must be earned."

Arthur tensed up, but then after a couple of seconds he let out a sigh and relaxed. Rubbing his forehead, he commented, "You and Merlin truly are brothers."

"We are the only sensible ones alive," Sherlock, despite everything he said to the contrary, loved and wanted to protect his younger brother. He was ridiculously proud of him.

"Sensible," Arthur's voice became strained, as his face turned red. Finally the Prince exploded with a bitter laugh. "Sensible! You call him sensible?"

Sherlock had a look in his eyes, "What else should I call him?"

"Evil!" Arthur exploded, "I don't know, insane maybe. He kills people for a living." John understood how Arthur felt probably betrayed by that knowledge. John didn't know how he would feel if Sherlock came out as an undercover assassin.

Sherlock on the other hand smirked, "We all have our downsides."

"_Killing people _is not just a downside," Arthur argued.

"Don't be boring," Sherlock commented, "You were in the army. Technically you killed people for a living. Merlin, on the other hand, technically is a full time student and works as your assistant for a living. How he stands it I will never know."

"I just don't get it," Arthur said.

"What is there not to get?" Sherlock asked innocently.

John decided that this was the perfect time to step in. "Arthur, I'm sorry you feel betrayed by Merlin, but you barged in on us really late-"

"It's eight am," Arthur interrupted.

John just continued. "And we are in the middle of working on a case. If there is anything that we can help with we will, but we can't do anything to change the fact that Merlin is an assassin."

John paused for a second looking over to Sherlock. Merlin had become almost like a little brother to him also, so he added, "It would be best if you didn't spread the knowledge around."

Arthur looked affronted, "I wouldn't."

Sherlock just shrugged it off, "Mycroft wouldn't let him anyways."

Well, John mused, none of them in the apartment were normal if turning him in had crossed none of their minds. Maybe it was a statement on how magnetic the young man was.

Arthur rubbed his head, "I'm worried about him. I'm furious at him right now, and I'm still worried about him."

Sherlock eyes flicked up quickly, "What happened."

"We were attacked and Merlin…" Arthur trailed off, "It was incredible. He fought them off as me and my security force stood by and watched. He took out eight of them. Eight!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Who saw."

"It was just Lance, Gwaine, Leon, and I they wouldn't say anything. In fact Lance didn't seem surprised." Arthur's voice was weak.

"He turned to us, and that it was the Irish mob, the Cathy…?"

"Catha."

"Yes them. He said it was them and he needed to deal with them. He left. He jumped through a bloody window, and was gone."

"He'll be fine," Sherlock dismissed.

"He killed a bunch of people. It definitely wasn't his first time! He kills people for a living. He said as much."

"We've been over this. Now you're just being excessively slow." John bit his lip to stop from laughing. Maybe it was getting delirious, he had pulled an all nighter after-all.

"But, but he's Merlin," Arthur said Merlin's name as if it meant something.

Sherlock countered right back, "And I'm Sherlock, your point."

"He's the kindest person I know." John couldn't really argue for that. For someone who has killed more people that John would ever want to know, Merlin had a very kind demeanor. The rescues stray puppies and walks old ladies across the street demeanor. It was quite disconcerting and hard to align with the boy John _knew _was deadly, but never felt as such.

That was the reason that Merlin, despite being the nicest and most adjusted of the brothers, was quite possibly the most dangerous. It was his ability to be completely underestimated that made Merlin the type of dangerous he was.

Sherlock and Arthur were still arguing.

"He'd lay down his life for me," Arthur stubbornly pointed out.

"I'd label that stupidity," Sherlock snapped. "There are plenty of you-types in the world, there's only one Merlin."

A familiar voice cut the room, "Careful Sherlock, that almost sounded as if you care."

"I'm just being honest," Sherlock scoffed to himself, "Arthur is a common idiot." Arthur and Merlin, however, completely ignored Sherlock in favor or staring at each other.

"Merlin…" Arthur breathed.

Merlin smiled his lopsided hundred watt smile and with false casual-ness said, "Hey Arthur."

Arthur stumbled, "Hi, I, you, I thought you went after the Irish mob."

"I did." Merlin nodded.

"But…but…" Arthur acted as if he didn't know how to reconcile this with what he knew of the boy. John had to admit Sherlock has a point. The Prince didn't seem to be the sharpest sword in the armory.

"Oh, you worry too much. I can take care of myself," Merlin winked at John. "Isn't that right John." Merlin casually pulled him into this. He felt for Arthur as much as the man proved to be pretty damn thick, John had once held the same assumptions as the Prince.

John was saved from having to reply by the Prince's shrill, "You can take care of yourself? _You?" _Hysterical laughter followed.

John hoped he wouldn't have to take the Prince to the hospital. He couldn't imagine the amount of questions he would have to answer.

"I thought I was incredible as I took out eight people."

"You were listening in!" Arthur finally came to that conclusion.

Sherlock by this point had retired back to his chair, and was reading a book. He casually added, "Merlin is the leader of a terrorist organization. He is the last person you have to worry over Arthur Pendragon."

"We are hardly terrorists Sherlock, just… selective vigilantes. Let's call us _The Punishers _of the underground world." Merlin, forever the young nerd of the family.

Sherlock grinned, "You finally admit it then, to being the leader of the Druids."

"I admit no such thing, especially when our brother has this apartment bugged." John did not like that thought. It had crossed his mind before, but it was easier just to ignore how Mycroft and his men had known everything he had done in the flat.

Everything.

Arthur, in his very angsty voice stated, "You lied to me and used me. Are you trying to kill me?"

"Don't be an idiot Arthur," Merlin at that moment sounded exactly like his brother, "Our friendship was entirely incidental. I admit, it was beneficial to me to be in such a close proximity to you, but I have never conspired against the British government. _My brother _is the british government. My morals may be loose, but loyalty is something I have in spades. I'm loyal to you and I'm loyal to my brothers. That's it."

"If Merlin was trying to kill you, you would have already been dead." Sherlock's unwanted input was always given.

"Aw thanks Sherlock, you say the nicest things," Merlin cooed.

"I don't say nice things, only true things."

Arthur closed his eyes, "Merlin, I'm still processing this. We need to talk, but I'm sorry for reacting the way I did."

"You had every right," Merlin's voice was very kind.

"No he didn't," Sherlock added.

"Shut up Sherlock."

"You have every right to act like you did. I promise that I will sit down and explain everything, but can you trust me for now," Merlin looked at Arthur with hopeful eyes. John had no idea that such a dangerous person could look so much like a puppy.

Sherlock cut in, "Merlin! You're going to explain your activities to the idiot, but you won't tell your own brother."

"You're smart enough, figure it out. And please don't call him an idiot-" Arthur looked smug, "-only I can call him that." Arthur immediately scowled.

"Hey!"

"I will explain everything. I only stopped by because the people I have trailing you told me you came here. I have some things I need to take care of with the Catha, in Ireland, before I come back." Merlin stuffed his hand in his pockets.

"I…" Arthur nodded, "okay. Please be safe."

"He will be, or Mycroft and I will kill him," Sherlock gave his best shot at a protective older brother. The Catha must be dangerous for Sherlock to even say anything.

"Arthur, I'll be back. I promise. I do not break promises, but there are some people after me, well you, but I got in their way. I will always get in their way." He shoved a burner phone in Arthur's hands. "I have people trailing you, but if you need anything, I am the first number in that phone."

"Merlin," Arthur's voice was thick, "You're my best friend."

"You are too prat." Merlin grinned.

Sherlock looked vaguely revolted by the display, and John found himself a little wistful. Sherlock was not the emotional type.

Arthur blinked for a couple of seconds as if finally realizing that he had barged into Merlin's brother's apartment at eight in the morning. Sherlock and him were still wearing rumpled clothes from being up all night, and Merlin had stains that resembled blood on his shirt.

"So," Arthur said awkwardly trying to cut the tension, "who is this Mycroft you keep prattling on about?"

The two brothers in the room smirked.

...

Does anyone actually care/is anyone actually reading this? This chapter was a little more angsty and a little less funny, but I had it siting on my computer, so I thought "why not." I don't usually do authors notes, because I'm lazy, but it's been such a long time that I have to ask if anyone is still interested. Be honest. Also, thank you to anyone who has reviewed and favorited. This is a story I tend to pick at from time to time, so I'm sorry for the sparatic (the special word used for never) updates.

-Emm


	6. Chapter 6

Prince Arthur asked John to tea. He questioned his entire life.

He had to be escorted in through the bloody palace, and a frighteningly big security guard escorted him.

John didn't know what to say, and he almost made a comment about the weather.

He was, however, saved by the man stating, "You know Merlin."

"Umm, Yes," John nodded, "He is my-" flatmate, best friend, platonic soul mate, "friend's younger brother."

The man asked, "Sherlock?"

John nodded, "You know Sherlock?"

The man- who John now realized hasn't learned his name, laughed questioning, "Doesn't everybody?"

Another security team man- secret service against maybe- came up next to the large guard. He was shorter than the tall man with mid length dark hair that slightly curled at the end and mischievous eyes. Unlike the first, he seemed to contradict the silent and frightening stereotype of secret service agents.

Not that he didn't look like he could beat up some people, but just that it was more likely to happen outside of a bar.

"Leon my man, I thought we all agreed we would never discuss the Sherlock incident," he voice was boisterous and John wondered if he had to sold Sherlock for something he had done.

The newly christened Leon grunted, "Gwaine what are you doing here?"

"The Princess changed the room he they are having tea in. Something about cleaning season and Uther," Gwaine glanced to John, "Sure you don't want anything stronger in than tea. I'm sure that the Princess won't mind."

Arthur didn't seem like the type to let his men call him Princess, but what did John know?

John realized Gwaine was staring at him asking him for an answer. "No, I'm good," John managed out after clearing his throat.

"I'll take him," Gwaine offered. Leon nodded briskly before turning and walking away.

"I'm more fun anyways," Gwaine chirped happily.

They walked for awhile as Gwaine droned on about an experience he had with some super models. John zoned out, wondering what in the hell the prince wanted to talk to John about.

"-and she did the most filthy thing with her tongue. You know what I mean?"

John nodded absently.

If John had been paying attention, he would have noticed the glint in Gwiane's eyes.

"But that's nothing compared to what Sherlock can do right. I mean have you seen the man's fingers. Wouldn't you say John?"

John nodded again absentmindedly.

"I knew it!" Gwiane pumped his fist.

John blinked, "Umm... What?"

"Sherlock and you have a thing. Or had a thing?"

"Neither, I'm straight," John didn't even sigh. He had answered this line of questioning enough that it was almost expected.

"Yeah, you tell that to Sherlock. The guy talks about you as if you hung the moon," Gwiane smiled.

"I'm married," John told him.

"Kinky motherfucker. Your girl into it? You don't seem like the type to cheat. Unless it's an unrequited thing. In that case, Sherlock and his brother are more alike than even I thought."

"Gwaine, what lies are you filling his head with," the Prince interrupted them before John could die from humiliation.

Gwiane grinned ear to ear. "No lies pass these lips."

Arthur snorted, "Gwiane, the day when you no longer spin lies is the day I wake up and realize I'm a reincarnation of a Medieval King."

"Well I mean it could happen. Hypothetically..."

"Gwaine, do you have anywhere to be?"

The man rolled his eyes, winked at John, and turned around to strut down the hall.

What an interesting man, John thought. Not the type one would think to be a guard for the royal family, but John imagined Princes needed friends too.

Arthur greeted John with, "Sooo..." And then continued you, "Thank you for coming."

"Uh," John stumbled for words, "my pleasure your highness."

"None of that. As you can probably see, I'm not much for titles. Merlin made sure of that."

"Okay... Arthur," John stood awkwardly in the doorway. Should be enter? Should be wait to be invited in?

Arthur nodded at him, then turned around and marched into the room.

John followed.

They sat down, and stared at each other for a couple of seconds.

"Not that I don't appreciate being asked to tea, but is there a particular reason you wanted me here?" John busied his hands pouring the sugar for his tea.

"How do you treat Sherlock?" Arthur finally asked.

"Hmm?" John didn't quite know what he was referring to.

"Merlin is so smart. I mean, the man is also a complete idiot, but he's so smart. I mean he used to say these strangely wise things and sometimes seemed to predict the future, but he was always such a dork!"

John felt offended on Merlin's behalf.

Arthur continued, "Now, he tells me. He'll look me in the eye and tell me that the man walking across the street is former KGB, or that the car up ahead is going to rear end the one in front of it. And it does!"

Arthur then banged his hand into head and proclaimed in a devastated voice, "He's smart! I don't know what to do."

John stared at the Royal. "What do you want me to do?"

"How do you treat Sherlock. He's the same right?"

"He never pretended to be anything but. I just placate his ego and tell him he's smart, and inform him when he's out of line." John shrugged.

"Merlin has no ego. I mean, I tell him all the time he has one, but he really doesn't. That won't work." Arthur shook his head.

"Just treat him the way you've been treating him." John suggested.

"You want me to continue to call him and idiot and throw things at him?" Arthur asked.

"What?" John proclaimed, "You throw things at him?" He was incredulous. No wonder Sherlock didn't like the Prince.

Arthur liked a little ashamed, "We have- had- a strange friendship."

John started at the man. Arthur ears got a little red.

"So you mean to tell me you want my help on how to treat Merlin now that you can no longer throw things at the man and call him degrading names because you know he can catch what you throw at him and is highly intelligent?" John questioned incredulously.

"Yes!" Arthur exclaimed, "Exactly."

John was deeply worried for the country if this was their future King. How was this his life again?

"So," Arthur prompted, "any advice?"

John floundered for a few seconds. Thankful, the Prince was saved from an earful by a crashing noise.

The Windows behind him shattered and five masked figures make their way into the room. They had guns, and John yanked the Prince down to the floor.

Security rushed in, and John could hear gunshots as the men traded fire.

"Fuck," John muttered. He didn't have his gun on him, and he was blinded by the ornate coaches. They were literally sitting ducks.

Then another figure blasted in from the ceiling of all places.

Merlin sprung to the floor landing on one of the men, knocking him out. He grinned insanely.

John started at the young man. He was almost completely naked except for a pair of badly fitted shorts. His hair was wet, he had no shoes on, and in one of his hands, he held some sort of long staff. John strained to get a better look.

John's jaw fought with a stick. A fucking stick. Literally a wooden dowel looking thing that maybe had a light polish on it.

Nonetheless, he moved lethally among the attackers. For being so tall, he held a very low center of balance.

Merlin was a badass, John would attest to that. Sherlock was pretty decent at fighting, if a bit awkward in his movements. He was practical to the point of jerky as if he didn't desire to waste energy.

Merlin brother held no such inhibitions. With a fluidity that John didn't know was possible, Merlin danced among the attackers with some sort of Asian fighting style.

The seriousness in Merlin's eyes looked so extremely out of character, and yet totally natural on the man's face.

Merlin wasn't a young man in that moment, but something ancient and powerful bringing a reckoning to the attackers.

It contested heavily with his shorts slipping further down his hips, and the ridiculousness of his choice of weapon.

For some reason, the men were fumbling with their guns. They weren't going off, and the men started to argue violently in another language. One of the men got to the point that they chucked his gun at the wall and turned to face Merlin.

There were three down and two to go. John started making his way towards the fight.

Merlin stood imperviously against two huge men. John saw his eyes asses them, calculating, before lasting out and jamming the dowel between one of the men's and twisting it up so that it crashed against the back of one of his knees resulting in a lock cracking sound. The man cried out, and slipped backwards his head hitting the ground with a resounding thunk.

He groaned and made a move to get back up, but Merlin took the stick and smashed it onto the man's groin. John groaned at the thought. He took the stick and smashed it against the man's head. He passed out.

All the while this was going on, for the six or seven seconds it took, the other man was making his way towards Arthur and John.

Running at them across the long ballroom, he looked like a football player preparing for the tackle.

Merlin had other ideas. He took the wooden dowel and launched it like a spear across the room and it smacked into the man's neck. He crumpled and Merlin was on him.

For a second, it looked as if he was about to kill the man, or at the very least hurt him very badly, but Arthur spoke up. "Merlin," he said shakily.

"I," Merlin paused and released his grip on the man. He blinked rapidly and, for a second, he looked his age.

Guards rushed forward to apprehend the last of the attackers and Merlin took a couple of steps back.

His eyes flashed to Arthur, then to John, and finally back to Arthur.

"I'm sorry," Merlin told him, "I should have known about the attack. I shouldn't have," then he continued very quietly, "done that in front of you."

Arthur shook his head rapidly, "This isn't your job."

"But I should have know. My contacts in Siberia were to let me know if the Catha were planning something! You could have gotten hurt," this was the truest emotion that John had ever heard from the young man. Merlin bit his lip and said, "I could have lost you."

Arthur then exploded, "How do you think I feel! You went from being my highly incompetent assistant to somebody who runs around fighting people for a living. Every time you leave the Palace I'm worried you won't come back."

John realized in this moment, that he was way out of his depth.

"I won't stop protecting you," Merlin told him.

"Then allow me to protect you! Take Gwaine when you go out. Tell me where you are," Arthur insisted.

"I lead a small army worth of devoted individuals and it's not like I need protection," Merlin argued.

Arthur bit his lip. After watching this exchange John realized what Gwaine was alluding to. John sincerely hoped that Sherlock and him didn't sound like this.

They probably did. No wonder people made assumptions.

Merlin shook his head and relented, "I'll take Lance with me. He's a Druid anyways."

"He is?!" Arthur's eyes widened. Merlin shrugged.

The room settled, and John steadily backed out trying to think of an excuse to leave.

Arthur glanced down at Merlin, "Why are you dressed like that?"

Merlin gave them a lopsided grin, "I heard the alarms when I was in the shower. I might have borrowed a pair of shorts from someone on the way over."

Arthur's jaw dropped and John now could now place the wooden dowel as a shower curtain holder. John felt bad for the poor that Merlin has stolen from. He could only imagine the man's confusion- the Prince's servant running naked down the halls, attacking him, and taking his pants.

Arthur should offer the man counseling.

The Prince voice resounded around the room as he shouted, "Merlin, you idiot."

Merlin grinned, "It' better than being a prat."

They dissolved into an argument that John thought was probably usual. A man on the other side of the room groaned in pain, and Merlin and Arthur walked out of the room together arguing leaving John alone with the fallen attackers.

John stared at the men and shook his head. He left. Those men were not his to deal with.

Later that afternoon a poor maid entered a cleaning cabinet to grab a broom only to be presented with a half naked man lying on the floor passed out. John read about it in the papers.

...

Thank you everyone for reading and commenting! It reminded me to work on the story, and it was good to know that people are invested in the story. Also, to clear something up with everyone, there is no real "plot". The one shots are loosely connected together with the intent of being humorous. I really love the Merlin!Holmes trope (next season of Sherlock's coming!). Let me know if there are any spelling/grammar errors and I might correct them.

Thanks! Please leave a comment; they spur me to write.

Enjoy, Emm


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